


Denial Waits

by lady_krysis (saekhwa)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Anal Sex, Community: kink_bingo, Facials, M/M, Suspension, orgasm denial/control, roleplay au (authority figures)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-07-21
Updated: 2009-07-21
Packaged: 2017-10-03 16:58:26
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20314
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/saekhwa/pseuds/lady_krysis
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just one way Alastair tried to make Dean say yes.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Denial Waits

**Author's Note:**

> Considerable thanks to [](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/profile)[**lunesque**](http://lunesque.dreamwidth.org/) for being a kickass beta.

Dean doesn't know how a soul feels what it feels, whether it's some cosmic memory or some fancy demon mojo. In Hell, he feels, and right now, his balls hurt, drawn up so painfully tight into his groin that he can't breathe past it. Alastair asks him a question, probably the same damn question he's asked for the past who-the-hell-knows-how long.

"No," Dean breathes; he's not even sure how he manages that one syllable.

Alastair's husky laugh caresses his cheek, and Dean shudders when he feels Alastair's hot fingers wrap around his cock again, squeezing the head, and Dean wants to come so bad his teeth hurt, all of his muscles straining from the tension of being denied again.

"This how you get your kicks off?" Dean asks because he needs to distract himself from the slow motion of Alastair's palm. He tries to think of old ladies, like Beatrice Arthur from the Golden Girls or that pudgy guy from the diner in Texas.

"You're making this hard on yourself, Dean," Alastair says, his words a hiss of breath in Dean's ear.

Dean shudders when Alastair's tongue flicks his earlobe, and then he cries out at the feel of Alastair's teeth in his neck, biting, vicious and hard like some friggin' vampire.

"That's not my kink, dude!" Dean snaps as he struggles to shift his head, to pull away from Alastair, but he's bound tight, suspended in Alastair's weird contraption of leather straps and ropes that cut into his skin with each desperate tense of his muscle. The only thing Dean can move are his hands--clenched so tight into fists that the muscles in his forearms and biceps bulge from the tension--and his toes, now curled and flexing.

"It's such a simple question, Dean," Alastair says as if Dean hadn't spoken. "Answer me, and then all this can end."

Dean's retort chokes in his throat when the pad of Alastair's thumb rubs against the nerves beneath the head of his dick, and his body is crying, _yes, yes, yes, please_, but Dean isn't going out like this. He breathes hard through his nose, jaw clamped so tight that he can hear the grind of his teeth. Alastair laughs.

"How about we pretend I'm daddy?" Alastair says while the fingers of his left hand absently pluck at a nipple.

"Fuck you," Dean hisses, screwing his eyes shut.

"Is that what you wanted, Dean?" Alastair's grip tightens around his cock, and Dean blows out a ragged breath. "You wanted daddy to fuck you?" Alastair's voice is at Dean's ear again, all sultry heat and promises.

Dean remains resolutely silent and tries to envision anything to kill the heat in his cock. Old ladies was working for a while there, but he can't think of enough of them fast enough before Alastair's fingers find the sensitive nerves of Dean's body, bringing him right back to the present, to Dean's raging hard on and Alastair's games.

"Just pretend," Alastair purrs in his ear with a soft, dark chuckle.

Dean blows out another breath, his muscles fighting against the straps, to shift in some small way. Dean's not sure if it's to get away or to pump his cock into Alastair's fist for a quickie, but he's definitely not calling Alastair daddy. That's just sick.

"You can end this," Alastair says, and Dean shivers in his bindings, eyes rolling up into his head when Alastair's finger circles the base of Dean's cock. "All you have to do is say yes, Dean."

The way Alastair hisses yes sounds so enticing, but everything Alastair says sounds enticing. Dean's trying to build up a resistance to it. Demons lie, he reminds himself. It's what they do.

So Dean forces out a petulant, "No," and it tastes like victory.

Short-lived. His body revolts against the invasion of Alastair's fingers, but all Dean's bucking does is make Alastair laugh, low and dark; makes him push harder until the straps and ropes that suspend Dean feel as if they're flaying off his skin.

"Is this how you're going to squeeze my cock, Dean?" Alastair presses another dry finger into Dean, curls them until Dean's gasping for a breath. "I'm looking forward to it."

No, Dean tries to say. It comes out as a smatter of syllables, a breathless, "Nggh." Dean wants it to be a vehement, _Hell no_, but Alastair would like that too much.

Alastair pumps his fingers, and the muscles in Dean's stomach quiver when Alastair's fingers brush against that damn spot--There's no break between Alastair's fingers and Alastair's cock, both stretching Dean so damn wide he feels like something's tearing.

"No!" Dean grits through his clenched teeth, his nails cutting into his palms.

"But Dean, m'boy," Alastair says conversationally, pushing deeper, "you feel so good."

Dean grunts when Alastair thrusts hard and fast, and he's almost thankful when Alastair removes his fingers, and then he's incoherent, struggling to hold on to his earnest _no_ when Alastair's hand wraps around his cock again. Dean jerks, trying to bow his spine and get out of Alastair's grip. The ropes slice into muscles taut with strain, snap him right back into position like rubberbands. Dean writhes, choking on air as Alastair fists him with tight, quick jerks until he's dizzy from pleasure and pain and still can't come.

"Come on, Dean," Alastair says with another forceful jerk of his hips, sparking Dean's nerve endings until his skin flushes, his body desperate for just one climax. "Daddy needs an answer to a very important question."

Dean tries to shake his head, feels the friction of the strap on his neck, and tries for another _no_ that ends in a hard grunt as Alastair rams into him with another quick, short jab. Dean can feel the prickle of tears and fights against the sting of them threatening to fall, refusing to give Alastair one more sick thrill. So Dean repeats _no_ like a mantra in his head, the shape of it like a prayer that he drills into his heart because desire isn't worth saying yes to Alastair, even though his cock fiercely disagrees.

"Look at you, Dean," Alastair purrs, his breath hot against Dean's mouth. Dean tries to recoil from the wet flick of Alastair's tongue against his lips. He can't stop gasping when Alastair drives harder into him. "All you have to do is say yes." Another violent thrust. "Yes." Another thrust. "It's not so hard."

Dean's body is screaming, pleasure curling tight and low like a fist in his gut, and he's cutting his palms open with his nails. He tries to use the pain to bring himself back down, but Alastair knows how to twist pleasure and pain. Dean's been on the rack long enough to understand that, but he tries anyway because it's something, because no means he's still human, and he's got to hold on to that.

Alastair's teeth sink into Dean's bottom lip, the screams echoing throughout Hell drowning out Dean's groans and grunts and the hard slap of their flesh. If souls can feel pain, Dean thinks souls should be able to black out, too.

He sags when Alastair suddenly pulls out, and his eyes open wide and fast at the slick feel of Alastair's orgasm landing on his cheek, shooting into his mouth, open wide with shock, and then he's spitting and gagging and trying to relieve the burn on his tongue and cheek, his skin--his entire soul crackling from Alastair's _whatever_. Dean hurts; he hurts all over, and for a grateful, relieving moment, it surpasses the pain in his balls.

"Don't worry, Dean," Alastair says, his grip slick around Dean's fierce erection. "We've got time."

Dean tries to clamp down on the whine lodged in his throat, shuts his eyes and tries not to think about Alastair's--He's just not going to think about it. "Answer's. Still. No," Dean grits through his teeth.

He tries not to shudder when Alastair laughs, soft and deep. "Dean, m'boy." The moan escapes Dean's lips anyway when Alastair's fingers skim the length of his cock. "That's exactly what I wanted to hear."


End file.
